“We will be departing within the hour,” Captain Marakovich said to the rather twitchy looking xeno on the screen.

“V-very good!” the creature exclaimed. “A-and the humans will be well treated?”

“Of course!” the captain replied. “They are our people!”

“W-where will you be taking them?” the official asked, “They might be humans but they are our humans too.”

“I cannot say, Mr. Akk,” Captain Marakovich said firmly, “They will be residing here, on this vessel, at least for now. Don’t worry, we are quite adept at making these ships quite livable. We have done this before, after all.”

“Staying on the move?” the xeno asked, starting to relax a bit. These “savages” were in fact quite reasonable it seemed.

“Exactly,” A permanent colony would be beyond inadvisable at this time. “For now, the void will be our home, our cloak, our shield, and our protector.”

“I-I’ve never thought of the void in such a way,” the official said, somewhat unnerved. The void was something to fear… but now that one thinks about it…

“We will take very good care of your people,” the captain said reassuringly. “They are the future of our entire race.”

“I will miss them, our humans,” the official said. “It will take three of us to replace each one of them! And I will dearly miss Mrs. Perkins’s bakery! Perhaps, one day, you could return? You will always be welcome here!”

“I will pass that along,” the captain replied with a smile and nod of the head. “The General will definitely keep that in mind, I’m sure.”

“I am a fan of your old two dimensional cinema,” the official said as he leaned in. “I believe the right phrase is 'Give them hell!' yes?”

“If you are expressing the hope that we put a boot up the Federation’s ass, then yes,” the captain replied with a toothy grin.

“Give them hell, Captain.”

***

“The Verd were quite cooperative, General,” Captain Marakovich said as he reported in. “We are laying in a course for Point Gamma now. We will be departing in thirty minutes with ninety-eight percent of the human population and many tons of supplies that were donated to our cause.”

“Ninety-eight?” Jessica replied raising her eyebrow.

“Some chose to remain,” the captain replied. “I have every confidence they will be well treated, perhaps even protected. The Verd are good people, General. They should be added to the list.”

“Doing it now,” Jessica replied as she typed. “Do you think they could become an ally?”

“They aren’t terribly well armed. Calling their SDF an SDF is being a bit generous, ma’am. However, I was told to ‘Give them Hell’, at least unofficially.”

“Maybe a discreet envoy wouldn’t be a waste of time then.”

“I agree, General. All officials and perhaps more importantly all the people I met were definitely on our side.”

“There is something else I need to discuss with you, Captain, something very important.”

“Ma’am?”

“I need you to take on a rather lengthy assignment, away from your ship. Would you be willing to consider it?”

“Exactly how important?” Captain Marakovich said with a frown.

“I need a crew put together and a captain to lead it. I’m giving a rather singular individual a ship. She will need a crew to run it and even more importantly a captain that can train her to our standard. I need a captain adept at making captains and you were the first person that came to mind.”

“You want me to leave my ship, my crew, now…” the captain glowered, “just to clamp some whelp on my tit?”

“Yes.”

“Forget it!… Ma’am,” the captain said firmly.

“Viktor,” Jessica said pleasantly, “your ship is full of refugees and is just going to be flying circles in space for God knows how long. You’re wasted there and you know it. I’m not asking you to give up your ship, just leave it with Sasha for a bit. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“What is so important that you want me to leave my home, my family?”

“This girl,” Jessica replied, “she’s a void gazer.”

“What?”

“That’s right,” Jessica said. “She’s a gazer, and not just a ‘normal’ one, if there is such a thing. She’s been kissed, on the mouth, with tongue, full exposure, for hours… and not just once. All of that and she is not only relatively sane but physically undamaged, enhanced even.”

“...”

“She needs training and by someone familiar with her kind, someone who can let her run but can still keep a firm hand on her lead. Then, when the time is right, she will need an introduction to your friends. I need you on this one, Viktor. She needs you.”

“I’ll talk to Sasha,” Viktor replied after a few seconds. “If they are willing to take this on, I will do this… but not for free.”

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Jessica said with a smile.

***

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Jessica said to Sheila’s suspicious face on her main screen.

“What do you want?” Sheila replied curtly.

“We have a… problem, you and I.” Jessica said with her pleasant smile.

“We do?” Sheila replied innocently. “Whatever could that be?”

“I heard you were a smartass,” Jessica chuckled. “My grandson, remember him?”

“Oh yeah, him,” Sheila said with a smile. “Lovely man.”

“He was a little shit,” Jessica replied. “always was, even when he was a kid. Still, he was family and you killed him and you did it ugly.”

“Hey,” Sheila replied as she sipped a beer. “I was just going to shoot the fucker in the head.”

“Yes, I know and I appreciate it. It was unfortunate that it went down like it did. Made for some good video though, didn’t it? How many views is it now?”

“A few,” Sheila replied with a malicious smile.

“I actually have little problem with what you did,” Jessica said as she sipped her tea. “In all honesty you saved me the unpleasant task of doing it myself. What I do have a problem with is the video.”

“And why should I give a fuck?” Sheila smiled.

“(Sigh)… Look, I get it. It was war, wasn’t it? He was a legitimate target. Even I have to accept that. But it looks bad, that video. It makes me look bad, it still being up. You’ve had your fun and you’ve made your money, though from what I hear money isn’t really that much of a concern anymore, is it? I would consider it a personal favor if you took the video down. That’s all I want. Pull it down maybe with a little 'out of consideration for his family' message or something?”

Sheila looked Jessica in the eyes for a few seconds silently.

“Pull the video and it’s over,” Jessica continued, “You can even keep the slush fund of mine from the White Star. Consider it payment for the information you gave us. For the record, the Confederacy had very few assets on that ship. In my opinion, misers that bury their gold get what’s coming. Just pull the snuff flick. I have a lot on my plate and I really don’t want to have to try to choke down a healthy serving of Donovan on top of it all. Could you do this for me? Please? You have one less thing to worry about. I have one less thing to worry about… and you have me owing you one instead of ‘owing you one’…” Jessica said imploringly. “And I always pay my debts, one way or the other.”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“We’ll pull the video,” Sheila said after a few moments and a sip of beer, “but you can forget about that little note.”

“Deal!” Jessica exclaimed brightly. “I really appreciate this!”

“Think nothing of it,” Sheila said in a cool tone.

“While I have you on the line,” Jessica said with a smile.

“No.”

“Just ask yourself one question...” Jessica said with a wolfish smile, “Who-”

“Bye-bye.”

Sheila switched off the transmission.

Jessica looked up at Terrence as the screen went dead.

“I like her!” she chuckled as he refilled her cup.

***

“I wonder what she wanted,” Jessie said as she erased the communications buffer of the hyperspace relay they had tapped into.

“Who cares,” Sheila replied reaching for another beer, “Anyone who makes a deal with that snake is a moron.”

“Didn’t you just make a deal with her?” Jessie grinned.

“Oh go and fuck yourself,” Sheila laughed. “We pull down a video that nobody’s watching anymore and there’s the outside chance she doesn’t try to screw with us.”

“Didn’t she say she wouldn’t?” Jessie asked. "They say she always keeps her word."

“Care to bet your life on that?” Sheila snorted.

“So we’re still going to pop her?” Jessie asked.

“Not while she’s doing our job for us,” Sheila replied. “After that, we send Gloria.”

“Now this is interesting!” Bunny interrupted as a message appeared on the bridge’s main screen...

***

“...so that’s the situation,” Jon said.

“Fuck,” Sheila replied to his image on her screen.

“If she talks,” Jon said, “she can give them the identities of the entire resistance, all of them… and everyone talks, sooner or later.”

“How long do we have?” Sheila asked.

“So you will help?”

“I didn’t go through a living hell,” Sheila growled, “and my brothers and sisters didn’t die by the millions saving the Republic from the fucking bugs… and the Feds… only to hand it over to that bitch! Of course we’ll help!”

“If they use Verity, she’ll talk, but there won’t be anything left of her afterwards,” Jon said, obviously in pain, “She’s too valuable for just one session. They will want to try to turn her first. She can resist that, I know she can. It’s just a question of how much time they will waste. We have a few days at least.”

“We can work with that,” Sheila replied calmly, sipping a beer.

“She’s valuable,” Jon said with just a bit too much emotion, “To the resistance… to me… Save her if you can. If you can’t… Fuck.”

Jon closed his eyes.

“If you can’t extract her, she needs to… She needs to be silenced.”

“Understood,” Sheila said grimly. “Well do what we can and if we can’t… we’ll do what we have to.”

“Just… Just make it quick.”

“It will be,” Sheila replied. “Either we will rescue her or she won’t even know it happened.”

“Thank, you, Major.”

“Ain’t a major anymore, Colonel. Just Sheila.”

“Ok, Sheila.”

The screen went dead and Sheila turned to her crew.

“So that’s the situation. It’s a soft enough target but getting to it without having the whole navy up our ass, that’s the problem.”

“I can do it,” Gloria said in her monotone as she sipped a flute of champagne.

“How?” Sheila asked.

“It was above your paygrade,” Gloria replied with a sip. “But I did more than one special-ops insertion with a cloaked Moray and later with a Reaper. You replace the weapons module with a pod. You can fit four people in one easy, maybe more if you don’t mind someone’s junk in your face.”

“How long to build a pod?”

“I would normally say days at least,” Gloria replied, “But Smythe put my baby together in what? A week and a half?”

“Give him a call,” Sheila said, “Whatever he charges, we’ll pay it.”

“Done.”

“Jessie,” Sheila said, turning towards her, “you and Bunny grab the plans to the place. I want a model ASAP.”

“On it,” Jessie chirped with a grin. “Come on, Bunny, we have shit to do!”

“I can’t ‘come’ anywhere, you know,” Bunny chuckled. “I’m already there.”

“Oh shut up,” Jessie laughed as she scampered out of the room.

***

As that night slowly became the next day, Sheloran tossed uneasily in her sleep, making small distressed noises. Craxina awoke and, not knowing exactly what else to do, hugged her a little tighter.

She’s dreaming again, Craxina thought unhappily as she tried to snuggle it all away...

A Plath, draped in a hooded burgundy silk robe embroidered with threads of gold bearing an eight rayed spiral with an iridescent jeweled eye in the center, entered a large wooden chamber dimly lit by a pale cyan light.

“Sisters,” she said as she stepped onto a slightly raised platform in the center of the room. A eight-rayed spiral glowed to life as her bare feet touched the center.

“So, you’ve finally decided to come,” an elderly Plath, sitting on an elevated throne made of thousands of tiny alabaster vines entwined around large glowing crystals. “Why now, at this hour?”

“I wish to give counsel,” the Plath in the center of the room replied pulling back her hood. Sheloran recognized her. She was a bit older, but it was the Plath she always dreamed about.

“You have come to grace us ‘fools’ with your ‘wisdom’?” a bitter voice issued from a darkened alcove, the speaker concealed. “By all means, ‘great seer’ enlighten us.”

“Long have I been in seclusion,” she said, “And deeply have I peered in all that is and will be. In the expanse of the formless I have-”

“Oh just get on with it!” the bitter old Plath snapped.

“The Revisionist’s victory is assured.” she replied with a smile.

“Oh thank you ‘great seer’!” the bitter one scoffed. “How could we EVER have discerned that without you!”

“Sister, let her speak,” the ancient Plath said. “She wouldn’t have risked coming here if it weren’t at least of some import.”

“Thank you, Great Seer,” the Plath in the center of the room said. “Their eventual victory should be obvious at this point. We could yet prevail against their force of arms,” she said, “but they have the hearts and minds of the people. That, we cannot wrest from them by force and we have no hope of winning it with our words, no matter how much wisdom, how much truth they contain. Fear prevails over reason and fear is a scythe they wield so very well. They will cut down the shoots that we sow as soon as they peek above the soil.”

“That much is obvious, sister,” the Great Seer said. “Yet there is hope in your voice. Share.”

“The brightest colors shine with their victory. Anyone who peers knows that, however, the brightest colors aren’t the only ones. There are deeper, more subtle hues. Our fate remains unchanged!”

Murmurings started to spread from hundreds of shadow-filled alcoves in the walls.

“Yes, they will ‘win’,” the Plath said. “but they drive their vessel upstream. Their strokes are powerful and their vision is keen so they will succeed. They can win against us and they can prevail against those from the other realm. They cannot, however, defeat the greatest threat of all, time. Yes, they paddle with such furor but their arms will grow weak, their eyes will grow dim...”

She smiled to the assembled Plath.

“And the river never stops. They will not cheat fate. They only cheat time. Who cares if they gain hundreds, thousands, or even millions of years? It matters not. Fate will not be denied. Yes, they have the force of arms. Yes, they have the hearts of the people. We have time itself. Time flattens mountains, drinks oceans… It even ground the progenitors themselves into dust! And this ‘Great Prophet’ thinks he can win, he can succeed where even the almighty progenitors failed? Let him try! There is no need to fight, no need to suffer! There is no reason for any more of us to die! Give them their victory! I have spoken to their prophet.”

Shouts broke out in the chamber.

“He is not an evil man!” she said, her strong voice and the acoustics of the chamber cutting through the cries of anger and betrayal. “He’s a fool, certainly, but not evil. He truly cares about the Plath, he cares even for us! We can negotiate a peace that will ensure not only our life, not only our freedom, but our comfort! As long as we do not interfere nor seek to increase our numbers we can even maintain our way of life for as long as any of us live! All we must do is simply let things run their course.”

“But everything we have achieved as a people, everything we have built over the countless ages, will be lost, even the words of the progenitors! Gone!” the Great Seer replied in anguish.

“That will happen regardless,” the Plath in the center of the chamber replied. “Even if we were to win, all will burn. Our fate is sealed, as it has been ever since that day. Our people, our world, all we hold dear, will fall to the corrupted one. From The Befouler, there is no escape. The past is immutable, as a result, the future is set. The only thing we have is the present. Do you want to suffer and die, for absolutely no reason, or do you want live and enjoy all that we have built for the rest of your days?”

Her voice sliced through the growing silence like a reed-sickle.

“Furthermore, our people need us. The revisionists need us, and their Great Prophet knows this! Great Seer, speak with him. Listen to his vision. It is the height of folly, a foolish dream… but it is a very pleasant one. The slumber into which he would plunge us could be filled with warmth and contentment, not nightmares. It sounds absolutely lovely to be perfectly honest. The future that he envisions and the world that he wishes to create is one that I would be delighted to live in. With our help, that world could be…”

She sighed wistfully

“...amazing...”

“Your words sting,” the Great Seer said. “They burn, but I see the wisdom in them.”

She raised her staff.

“I will speak to this so-called ‘prophet’.”

Shouts of outrage rang out.

“Our sister’s words ring true,” the Great Seer said, her powerful voice striking all silent. “Why should we sacrifice ourselves for no reason? I have seen much of what she said. We will lose. Anyone who believes otherwise is a greater fool than the revisionists themselves! Does anyone contest this?”

Silence.

“If we can negotiate the terms that our sister claims are possible, then we are fools not to do so,” the Great Seer said, “And she also bears another truth. The Great Prophet will need us to make his ridiculous dream a reality. If our people must slumber,” she said in a weary voice, “then let us make it as pleasant of one as possible.”

A collective sad, defeated sigh filled the chamber. Their sister was right. The Great Seer was right. There was no escaping the truth, the horrible tragic truth of it all.

They had lost.

“Wiser words have not been spoken in here since this madness began,” the Great Seer said with great sadness, “I lend them my voice as well. ‘The past is immutable, as a result, the future is set. The only thing we have is the present.’ Let us claim that present. Let us seize it and live it on our terms.”

The Great Seer turned to the one in the center of the room.

“Arrange the meeting,” she said with a regretful sigh. “I will speak with the fool.”

“I shall take care of it,” the Plath replied.

“Have you anything else to discuss with us,” the Great Seer asked.

“I do,” the Plath replied. “But it is for your ears alone.”

Angry murmurs filled the chamber.

“That is not our way, Sister,” the old Plath said raising her second eyelids. “What cup is there that cannot be shared?”

“The liquor is bitter, vile,” the Plath said as she lifted the clear membrane from her eyes as well. “not something that should soil the roots of the assembly.”

“And what is this poison,” the old one asked.

The Plath, her eyes swirling with shimmering hues, looked deeply into the old Plath.

The Great Seer shuddered at the wickedness, the madness she beheld.

“Revenge.”

Across the galaxy, unknowable years later, Sheloran awoke with a start.

“Poop.”